


prayers in the ashes

by AikoIsari, OnixflametheBlue



Series: The Open Sky [1]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon World Series
Genre: Adoption, Child Abandonment, Gen, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AikoIsari/pseuds/AikoIsari, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnixflametheBlue/pseuds/OnixflametheBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peaches the Arkadimon loves his family very much. He really just wants them to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	prayers in the ashes

He could hear the wailing sounds through the wall.

He could not go through the castle doors, Binary could not enlarge them that much for him, nor did he had eyes to instantly take in the scene as it was. So he could only wait. The Arkadimon was not a patient sort. Then he heard the magic, opening a gap in the war for a small creature to totter out. She, the head elf, walked out in silence. She didn't look at him, which was never a good sign.

He followed her into the courtyard. The head elf looked up into the night sky, hesitant. The atmosphere was like in the castle, tense. If he strained, he could remember another time when things were this tense. He didn't remember _why_ they were tense then, only that they were. And that when he had learned why, he hadn't liked it. He didn't remember much, because he was sure he had broken something in rage and sorrow. He almost didn't want to stay there. If it was that thing again… He didn't want to hurt his mother or his father. It was why he didn't stay with them very often. He was _dangerous_ and-

The head elf sighed and unconsciously interrupted his thoughts, bringing out her smoking pipe out of her pocket and stuffing her emergency supply of tobacco into it. The movement brought his attention to her. If he had eyes they'd have narrowed; as it was he merely gave a warning buzz. His parents hated the use of that substance. It was supposedly a stimulant but his father had told him what those things did once burning and inhaled through that specialized device.

The head elf merely rolled her eyes at the sound. "I can make my own choices. I appreciate your father and all he has done for me, mine and your mother, but my vices are my own." She lit it up and took a puff, grumbling. "Besides, after today I think I need it."

He tilted his head. Of course the head elf was old, far older than he knew most beings other than his mother to be. As far as he knew, she mothered the entire DigiElf population, or at least was their oldest living ancestor. She was among the first. But still, seeing her pursue this habit was not something he wanted to see after being met with a quiet, silently mourning castle. Something else came from his voice box this time, something far deeper and more felt than heard. **WHAT HAPPENED?**

The head elf looked up at him after a moment of silence, as if considering her words. Then she took another long drag, closed her eyes for a moment and looked up at him. There was an expression of terrible pain on her face. "The child lies still." She said softly. "Your parents… Their second child long lost the beat of its heart. She-" She took a breath. " _It_ was born still. The second time…"

He couldn't hear more over the sorrow that roared in his heart.

He didn't remember much again. He knew he'd jumped from the courtyard again, but that wasn't hard to do. He didn't want to be near his mother or father or even the head elf – he was so _angry_ and so _sad_ for his parents. Why couldn't they have children? This was the second time, were they doomed to only be able to adopt? Were gods only able to conceive children when they were unfaithful with each other, like the tales of Zeus from the analog world? The ones that _always_ made Lord Asgore angry?

He didn't know. He never knew. That was always the problem. He knew destruction, death – what warrior didn't? But he never knew construction, he never the new life or the satisfaction of seeing it grow. And he didn't mean a plant or anything like that – plants were a dime a dozen and unless they were Digimon, couldn't speak or interact with you. Owning a pet was right out, as the ratio of analog-type animals to Digimon in the Digital World was astronomically low. Kidnapping a young Digimon was right out.

If he wasn't currently screaming his sorrow he'd note the oddness of wanting to be around to help his parents raise a child. Not many Digimon had families, after all. In fact, almost none. There were brothers and sisters one could have when you hatched from the same egg, but mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles and cousins? Practically unknown to Digimon. It was why he marveled when his mother first told him about her first pregnancy.

He would be able to be a brother? Just from his parents being together? He hadn't really understood at the time (and was determined not to now) but it had certainly excited him. Enough he stuck around for the first few months during this time, watched his mother's belly grow – how humans had children would always be weird to him – and… Then watch her and father grow despondent when it stopped – when his mother began to bleed and go into shock.

Humans, humanoids even, were fragile. So very, very small and fragile. So much so they could die before they were born. He didn't know how it was possible, but he had broken things in his rage and pain and desperation to understand. Even when Binary and the head elf had tried to stop him, all they could do was wait for him to exhaust himself. Then he was with his parents and comforted them before being called away, before being unable to stay.

He only returned now, after his parents sent him a message some few months ago. They were trying again to give him a little sibling – but once again, the child had died before it saw life, this time far sooner. He couldn't believe how fragile humans were – and he hoped his parents stopped. Their dead stares were now too hard to think about, when he managed to catch sight of them. He hoped he had not this time.

He finally came to a stop, barely recognizing his surroundings. Signpost Forest, home to nature and dark species Digimon – once a good hunting ground, before he had grown too large. He settled against a tree barely larger than himself and began moaning sadly, unable to keep from curling up. He knew his sorrow would turn to rage soon enough. Best let it happen in an area that would actually benefit from the uprooting of old growth.

Eventually, a distant sound cut through his moans. It was a high-pitched wail, echoing from tree to tree. Notes of heartbreak ran through each sob. The high sound tried and failed to form words and gave up, instead using the sound all babies of its kind had: mewls.

His head shot up. His own sorrow was instantly forgotten, as he stood and pursued the noise with all due haste. Peaches didn't know why there was the sound of a wailing, mewling _thing_ out there, but it pulled at all of his protective instincts, which usually only applied to his mother and father and maybe the head elf. He crashed through trees and bushes, uncaring of what he trampled.

He didn't know how, but he knew those were new lungs. And new lungs were connected to a new being. One which was weak and desperately needed protection.

The cacophony grew until he found it, the distinctly human looking baby screaming almost directly in his ears. Its lilac hair stuck to its face and bronze skin as it tapered off into sniffles for a few moments. It mewled again, curled around itself in cold and pain in the grass. A single golden thread wound around its naked body, cut roughly at the end, but that was all.

He only stopped for a second, looking at this tiny mewling creature. He had no idea what a human child was doing out in the middle of the forest so late - File Island's human population lived closer to the vast desert that one traversed to get to his parents' castle home. Ultimately, such a question was largely unimportant. He slowly came upon the tiny infant and slowly, gently picked it up with his thumb and forefinger and deposited it into one of his large hands. The poor thing stopped its wailing when he did, but he didn't notice it. All he noticed was this thing was so tiny in his far too large palm. He brought it up to his face, gently cupping it in his hands to provide for it gentle heat.

For the first time in millennia, he found himself using his mouth to speak - his usual vocalizations would be far too loud for this tiny thing. His voice was gentle and soft, a heavy contrast to what he knew himself to look like. "What you doing out, tiny thing?"

Lucky for him, the squalling thing could not actually see him, or it -she- would start screaming again. Nevertheless, she started to whimper-mewl again, unable to word its discomfort but aware of it all the same. It was suddenly up in the air on something warm and she couldn't see but the last big things she had felt were giant monsters and they had almost hit her! She mewled again and it hurt and the cold was bone deep at this point. Panicked all over again, the small thing started bawling anew.

He supposed he should have expected it - her, it smelled like a her, a tiny her, a tiny baby girl - to talk. Humans at this age usually didn't. He murmured to himself, before bringing the small thing to his chest and releasing a sound that he knew his mother to like. A loud, thrumming rumble, resembling a cat's purr. Its purpose was to comfort, to calm the child.

Even if he kept himself outwardly tranquil so as not to spook the child, inside of him was an inner turmoil that would have led to the destruction of the grove he stood in. This child was small, all alone, crying and cold. She had no clothes to keep her warm. All she had was him and it was making him scream in his mind. He didn't know what he could do, he had never interacted with humans this small, this young, this dependent. He didn't know what he could to for her, to get her to stop crying. He didn't know-

But his parents would.

The thought made his turmoil pause and he raised his head to the night sky. The thought actually got him to start thinking about what he could do, instead of screaming in his mind about the unfairness of it. His parents, he was sure they wouldn't appreciate having a small child brought to them so soon after losing their second - or would they? He wasn't sure about human behavior. But he couldn't bring her to a tribe living in the innards of File Island. They wouldn't trust him. They'd attack him on sight and probably hurt this small fragile child. The best he could do was take her to his parents and let them help her.

Perhaps he would help them heal in that way. He knew they wanted children, why else would they be trying to make their own? Perhaps this small, tiny thing could do more than he ever could with a gentle presence and soft purring.

Slowly, the little baby's sobs began to quiet, big purple eyes staring in his general direction. She mimicked his noise, only higher. Then she made another noise. "Mrwr?" She coughed, a big little thing cough. "Rrwewr?" she kept trying. The baby could get a sticker for stubbornness. She was still cold of course, but the noise had occupied her attention so much that she had forgotten. Young brains had trouble with that after all.

He looked down at her and - how could this little one have done this? - his heart began to melt at the pure adorable. Her tiny violet eyes staring up at him, the little sound she was trying to make to mimic him, her trying to speak without stopping her purring.

He gave a soft chuckle and brought her tiny face up to his, giving her a form of affection his mother instilled in him - rubbing her tiny nose against the front of his face plate. "Little thing silly." He murmured, a loving tone coming to his voice already. "Would like to go home? Have mom and dad?"

The little girl blinked at the rubbing on her nose. "Mrwr?" She didn't quite understand it, but she liked that it was still talking and had not eaten her. That was very good. Maybe it wasn't like those other blurry things. It was being very friendly and nice. Therefore, she wanted it to keep being nice and needed to prove it. She raised her hands and clapped them once, wriggling in his hand in excitement.

He felt like melting entirely. This small child was far too adorable. She was absolutely perfect for his parents. "Thought so." He murmured, pleased. "Then hold on, tiny child. I take you home."

He didn't think about why she was there. He didn't think that maybe someone could have come for her eventually. He completely discounted it. No one left a child in the forest in the dead of night without clothes if they intended to come back for them.

So that was why he took this small child, with the golden thread of destiny around her, and took her back home. His pace was far more steady and less rushed, but he would make it back to his home in due time, when the sun began to peak over the ocean in the horizon.

* * *

By the time he returned, the near desolation had been cleaned. He landed in the courtyard, careful not to wake the dozing tiny thing. It made little mewls in his large hand, shivering. She had cried on and off on his way here, probably hungry, thirsty, freezing, so many ills. And it was a baby thing. Mama would help. He knew she would.

Binary made a noise when he landed, a shimmering murmur that made the air tremble. Such surprise. Unfortunately, this woke up the tiny thing, who immediately started to bawl, frightened by the magic and the power. He started to make the purring sound again until her sobs quieted down. The sound, however, still caught the attention of the head elf, who came rushing out. Too late. He didn't have to see her very closely to notice her pipe was gone and her eyes were wide.

"What have you done?" she snapped as she marched over, voice serious and as scolding as his mama's could get, if not more. "Did you-"

 **NO.** The word thundered out before he could control it and the baby whimpered. He opened his mouth. "Lost. Where Mama and Papa?"He wanted to say it was urgent, but it was rather obvious at this stage.

The head elf squinted at him, as maybe he deserved. He hadn't thought about this part. "In their quarters." She continued to stare and he stared, well as much as he could without eyes, back. Then the head DigiElf threw up her hands and turned on her heels. "On your own head be it." She went to get them.

He exhaled and Binary Castle let out a small trill sound. Instead of picking up tears, the baby girl began waving her hands at the air, as if trying to catch the sound. He chuckled before he could stop it. Adorable, tiny thing. The castle continued to trill and hum and she made strange noises of her own after it. Like singing. He could only watch this.

At the sound of his name, he lifted his head and regarded his mother and father. Both looked tired, tired in their souls. Before either could speak, however, he offered the tiny baby to his mother, who was closer. As if right on cue, the baby began to mewl.

For a moment, he saw their eyes spark. Hope and pain and love and that heart-melting. (At least it wasn't just him.) His father's voice came out strangled. "Did you... steal a child?"

"A _Talosian_ child?" His mother added, once she found her voice. Was it a Talosian baby? Those tended not to come to File. But that was a bit problematic. He knew they were territorial at the best of times and at the worst, with their children.

He made a low noise of dismay, making to speak. "No. Find alone. Signpost. Cold. Hungry. Dying. _Help._ " Of course, that last word was full of meanings, so many painful meetings. The baby mewl-purred again. He gestured with his large hand, insistent. His mother's hands were shaking. Did she understand? Did they understand? This was perfect for them.

"Mmmrwr..." The baby was shifting, thrashing. Trying to roll, he realized, but she was too small, too young. "Mriiiiiiiii~" Another noise. Then another. "Mrii! Muhhhiiii. Miiiiii!" Sparkles of light, maybe happiness. "Mi! Mi! Mi!" No, it was triumph. Adorable, heartfelt triumph met with a gummy, toothless smile.

His parents' faces, however, were full of horror for a moment. He couldn't understand now. Why? Then his mother's hand closed around one of the golden wrapped bronze wrists, and she froze for a few seconds. The baby also went quiet. Then, she pulled the child close to her and clung to it, wrapping the tiny thing into her mourning shawl and starting to sob in earnest.

His father stepped closer a little slower, like a wary pet. He moved away himself. His mother never did sudden movements like that unless it was very, very important.

"Love," whispered his father, waiting. She looked up at him, rocking the tiny thing. The light in her eyes was almost manic in intensity. She shook her head, unable to speak, the tears falling. So he didn't continue, stepping forward and pulling her near to him. He still couldn't hug, noted the son.

He wasn't sure if this had been a good idea after all. He could only hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. And it done and postable. Thanks to Onixflame for writing this with me it was a blast. And suffering. But you know, trademark. I didn't expect to make a continuation to Drift but hey, it happens. Please read and review!
> 
> Challenges: Diversity Writing F16. write a fic without mentioning the names of any characters, Easter Advent day 11, write from a digimon's pov, Valentine's Advent 2016 day 3, try writing a character you have never written, Halloween Advent day 3. write about a change in plans, mangaverse boot camp prompt warm, and gameverse boot camp prompt - correct.


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